The Greatest Shot The tale of the Ranger
by monkeyjddd
Summary: This was an origonal story I wrote, in the wonderful Mojave wasteland. The time it takes place in is a few months before the game starts. It is a story of a Ranger's quest to right the wrongs that he has been delt. (Note I (monkeyjddd) origonaly wrote this on a gaming forum, and have decided to bring it over here. It will be updated as I the revise the chapters.)


The Greatest Shot: The tale of the Ranger

"Did we have to bring the caravan along?" said one heavily armored man. He wore the suit of a ranger. An NCR ranger. His black riot armor shined in the sun, his light machine gun doing the same. "we had to have some cover, some reason to be here. That's my guess." said one, this one wore a bandana tied around her neck, and wore a brown, worned out hat. Yet another put his bit in, saying "I think our cover is discovering what's causing all the caravans to go missing." this one wore home-made leather armor, and was pre-loading 308 rounds into sniper magazines.

"Well, i can tell you the real reason why we are out in here in beautiful Zion park. we are looking for one 'Joshua Graham'. the rangers stood up, alert. One more Ranger walked down, this one fully outfitted in the infamous Armor, helmet, and matching coat. He knelt down, brush gun in one hand, and picked up a casing from the ground.

"what i find interesting,' said the man as he stood up ' is that a squad of highly trained ncr rangers don't notice hundreds of 45 shells right below them." the man said.

"John, we've been hiking for days. give us some slack." said the woman as she stood up.

"this seems like a prime place for an ambush. keep your guar-" John said as a shot rang out. No words were uttered, the squad ran back to the caravan. When they got there, the caravaneers were locked in melee combat with tribals. The soldiers quickly dispatched them, with a burst of machine gun fire, and a few well aimed shots.

"Birch, check on the caravan. Anne, get the b-" was all John could say when the bullet struck his helmet. he fell to the ground, still concise. Not for long. He watched helpless as a bullet passed through Isaiah, staining his armor with blood. Birch lasted a little longer than the caravaneers did, but a fire ax did him in. John grabbed Birch's sniper rifle, and tried to shoot one off the cliffs in which they were raining down death. The last thing he saw was Anne, running over to him, fall over.

"Woah. Don't try too hard." John's vision became a flash, then fell to the cave's dim light. john rolled over and saw one heavily bandaged man, cleaning pistols. "Your caravan lasted longer than most, seeing how they had an entire Ranger squad as escorts."

John forced himself up, at which the man pointed a pistol at him. "don't do anything you will regret. we both know why you were here." John staggered over to the table. "What happened to them? My squad?"

"Two were dead when we found you. We buried the girl 3 days ago. You were attacked by the white legs. a rival tribe. You can't stay long. They will find out who you are. I am letting you go out the way you came in. one of ours will escort you back to where we found you." Graham got up and walked out of the 'room', but not before saying, "The stuff on your right is yours. You held that rifle with a death grip when we found you. The helmet is no good. We found nothing of interest in your caravan, safe for that pip-boy. That is your property now." John put on all his stuff, and found a book with a cross on it. He slipped it in his bag and was on his way.

John turned the helmet over in his hands. He rubbed the dent, just above the left eye. The helmet was put in his bag he 'borrowed' from an old world ranger station. Maybe it was the concussion his pip-boy said he had, but he really got into that book he took from Graham. It made such an impression on him, he had scratched off all NCR markings and replaced them with what was on the cover. Maybe someone would tell him what it was called.

For the past two weeks, John had been using his new pip-boy's radio to track a radio signal. First, some caravan advertisement. John stood up and gazed into the sunrise. He brought up his pip-boy to find the signal. For a few turns, all he found was static.

"****-ood morning, child*****is is Thr***". John started the other way with the dial.

"Howdy. My name is Jed Masterson." John noted which way the signal was received best, and headed that way. Nearly 3 hours of listening to the repeat message lead him to a cave system. John lead the way in with his newly gifted pistol, and was met with a nice surprise.

"I'm guessing you are Mr. Masterson?" John said as he holstered his gun. He walked over to the surprisingly well armed caravan.

"You a ranger? Looks like it. 'cept your armor. Has a cross on it. That pip-boy might be of help to our company." Jed reached out to touch the machine, but John whipped back his hand, and had a pistol pointed at Jed's head. The immediate reaction was drawn weapons from everyone in the room, save one man in a vault suit.

"Are we close to New Vegas? Anyone?" after no response, John calmly pulled back the hammer, if only to show his seriousness.

"Son, I don't know what scared you so much in there. But we have room for one more. Just in case you don't want to go, exit out the other end of this cave. You will come out a bit north of Vegas." Jed signaled for the weapons to go down, and John walked toward the exit. As he passed the man in the vault suit, the man made a fake punch effort, only to be met with a real kick to his knee.

"Be careful, son. The Mojave has changed a lot in the past few weeks. You watch yourself out there. If you read that book, I hope you remember the lessons in there.." Jed motioned to the worn book hanging from his bag.

"A little advice. Don't go to wherever I just came from."


End file.
